


Spares

by Castillon02



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Humor, Lutes, a take on the lute-as-weapon trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castillon02/pseuds/Castillon02
Summary: Jaskier has a habit of picking up spare lutes.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 36
Kudos: 241





	Spares

**Author's Note:**

> Initially posted on tumblr; archiving here.

Jaskier has a habit of picking up spare lutes. Oh, never for actual money. But he’ll win one in a game of gwent, or bet a vain singer about who can reach the highest or lowest note, or just persuade whoever has it that they don’t want it anymore (sometimes depressingly easy). They’re often neglected things, out of tune, damaged by the elements, purchased by someone with more coin than sense who had since found that another instrument better suited their fancy. 

A few of them Jaskier lovingly restores and sells for a profit to likely-looking individuals, which is what makes Geralt tolerate his acquisitiveness. The others he alters in different ways, mostly by making them improbably heavy.

“Witchers are beasts, unfit for society! The alderman ought never to have hired you! Better off enduring a monster than paying one!” 

“You, sir, with the mouth, come over here. I have something for you.” 

The other lutes never last long. There’s something uniquely satisfying about bestowing an otherwise useless instrument with a good purpose, which is to say smashing it over the head of anyone who insults his Witcher in his presence. 

“I have more lutes,” Jasker announces after braining the latest dullard into unconsciousness outside of the alderman’s hut. And he does, because he outfitted Roach, picketed next to him, with a spare that he liberated from a local minstrel before they left the tavern. 

“Nay, one tortured tool is enough!” some wise-cracker calls from the crowd of people who came to gawk. “And by that I mean old Vyrdil!” 

The crowd collectively snorts their derision and begins to disperse. It often happens that way; there is nothing noble and everything comical about being felled by a lute. And can a Witcher really be that scary if he has a ridiculous bard defending his honor? 

Geralt exits the alderman’s hut, spots the crumpled body and shattered wooden remains, and rolls his eyes. “Can’t take you anywhere,” he says, though he undoubtedly heard the confrontation with his magic Witcher ears. 

“Can’t leave me anywhere either,” Jaskier says cheerfully, falling into step behind Roach, and they continue on the Path, each with their own kind of kill left behind them. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome <3


End file.
